


Kitchen Interrogation with Ultimate Angst

by byitisee, StilinskiDreams



Series: Connor Angst [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon-typical swearing, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Hurt Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Hurt/Comfort, I just mashed two versions of the scene together basically, My First Work in This Fandom, Oneshot, Pre-Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), The feels, Whump, literally just angst, worried Hank
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 14:47:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15197081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/byitisee/pseuds/byitisee, https://archiveofourown.org/users/StilinskiDreams/pseuds/StilinskiDreams
Summary: This is the Kitchen Interrogation scene that we all know so well except that keeping Connor alive doesn't mean he's just suddenly ok and chasing deviants... Also more worried Hank.





	Kitchen Interrogation with Ultimate Angst

**Author's Note:**

> I just got obsessed with DBH even though I don't own the game... Connor is amazing, and I hope to write a crap ton of him. I also hurt those I love. But only in my fanfiction. Ok you can read it now. Also shameless use of actual game quotes.

Somehow, Connor kept forgetting just how unpredictable deviants could be. He certainly hadn’t expected this one to attack him. Even a cornered, overwhelmed android should never attack someone—android or human.

He had to focus. What were his options? He could call for Hank, but the Lieutenant certainly couldn’t hear him from the other room. He briefly considered kicking a chair out of sheer desperation, but that would be pointless. He needed his thirium pump or he would shut down, and he knew Cyberlife would take away his “unnecessary” memories—the ones he cherished the most. He groaned, bringing his right hand to the hand with the knife in it and yanked out the foreign metal with a hiss. He gasped—an unusual and unpleasant sensation was spreading from his chest and hand throughout his body—as he fell to the cold, hard kitchen floor. If he didn’t know better, he would think he was in pain. But, he did know better—only deviants feel pain. He was just processing additional unpleasant stimuli. The worst part was the effect on his ocular processor. The edges of his vision were fuzzy, and the error messages were very distracting.

He had to get to his thirium pump. He only had a minute before he would shut down. He struggled to drag his body towards the important biocomponent, trying to focus as much of the pressure as possible on his undamaged hand, but he couldn’t protect his wide-open chest cavity. After managing to crawl a few feet further into the room, he had to stop. The disturbance to his inner mechanisms was causing the room to spin, and he no longer had the strength to pull himself forward.

Maybe he had made it just far enough that Hank would hear him. He took a deep breath that he didn’t need and called as loud as he could, “Hank… Hank, I need help…” but it was hardly more than a wheeze. He let his eyes flicker closed as he realized no help would come.

Hank walked in, thinking he had heard something coming from the kitchen. He scanned the room briefly before noticing Connor face-down on the floor, LED cycling a dull red. “Connor! Hang on son, hang on, hang on! We’re gonna save you, hang on!.. Here, here…” As he spoke, Hank pulled Connor towards him and held the struggling android in his lap.

Connor gasped, voice synthesizer struggling with the limited thirium, “Deviant… there was… a…”

“Dammit, Connor, I don’t give a fuck about the deviant! What happened? What do you need?” His hand was soaked blue as he tried to stop the bleeding from Connor’s chest, but there was no point. The blood kept coming, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He could barely slow it down. Connor was bleeding out right in front of him.

Connor laid there motionless, eyes starting to slide shut.

“Connor!” Hank slapped him--not very gently--on the cheek. “Wake up, Connor!”

Connor’s breathing was becoming more and more shallow, but he knew he had to help Hank. He coughed. “I… I need-” Connor turned his head into Hank’s chest, unable to take it anymore, and whimpered.

“Jesus, Connor, what the hell do you need?” Hank absentmindedly carded through Connor’s hair--the same way he used to do when Cole woke him up with a nightmare.

With the last of his strength, Connor lifted his head up just enough to look Hank in the eyes before pointing at the vital biocomponent and then at the rapidly bleeding hole in his chest. 

“Shit- Oh, shit… How- What do I do? Connor? Connor?! Shit!” Hank reached for the chunk of whirring metal covered in blue blood, careful not to jostle Connor in the process. “Come on kid, you gotta help me out here.”

Connor’s LED barely glowed, and the android detective was trembling.

Hank hesitated, “Fuck. Here goes nothin’.” He tried to match up the mechanism with the general shape of the chest wound, and twisted it in as gently as possible.

Connor gasped violently before his simulated breathing stopped entirely. He wasn’t moving. His LED flickered before going out.

Hank held his breath. He couldn’t… He couldn’t be- Not again. Was he too late? Did he do something wrong? He pulled Connor close, curled in on himself as if he were shielding Connor from something, and wept.

[Reboot Successful]

[Systems Initiating]

[Emergency Reboot Protocol Engaged]

[Warning: Stress Levels 86%]

[Emergency Diagnostic Successful]

[All Systems Functional]

[Minor Repair to Left Hand Required]

[Emergency Reboot Protocol Successful]

“You have thirium on your shirt, Lieutenant.”

“Connor? Holy shit, Connor!” Hank laughed with relief and pulled Connor into a bear hug.

Connor’s grin faltered, and he gasped in… pain.

Hank pulled back apologetically, noticing the bright red LED with mixed feelings. He looked Connor over. The kid had certainly looked better.

“I’m okay… I’m okay.” Connor was still shaking, but that was a hell of a lot better than nothing.

Hank exhaled deeply, “Jesus… You scared the shit outta me.” He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to pull himself together.

“The deviant ran out the door to the right, and I suspect he was heading towards-”

“Fucking hell… Like hell I care about the fucking deviant. Are you sure you’re ok?”

“My emergency diagnostic revealed only the graze on my left hand. All other systems are fully functional.” Connor started to sit up, but Hank pulled him back to the floor.

“Graze my ass. The bastard stabbed right through your fucking hand! But are you ok?”

Connor hesitated. “I’m… I believe I am experiencing… pain.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“But… Androids do not-”

“We can worry about that later. Can you stand?”

“Of course, Lieutenant. My systems are-”

“Alright, alright, I get it. You’re fucking cured. Don’t pull shit like that ever again, got it?”

“I’m sorry Lieutenant, I did not intend to-” Hank glared at him, and Connor smirked. “Got it.”

Hank offered a hand to Connor to help him stand up. “I’m too old for this shit. Let’s go home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! Writing Hank is super fun, and Connor is simply fantastic, so I expect I will be writing many more additions to this series. Give me prompts in the comments! Or don't, that's fine too.


End file.
